


City of Ghosts  (心霊の都市)

by keerawa



Category: Ghost - Halsey (Music Video)
Genre: Consent Issues, F/F, Ghosts, Language Barrier, Memory Loss, Misses Clause Challenge, No Dialogue, POV First Person, Possession, Supernatural Elements, Yuleporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5476580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/pseuds/keerawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I know I love her.  It is, perhaps, the only thing I know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	City of Ghosts  (心霊の都市)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliencupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliencupcake/gifts).



> Based on the Halsey video, [Ghosts](https://youtu.be/ao4o-XRU_KM).

Tonight I walk the flickering neon streets of the Great City.  The city teems with ghosts. They walk past me, through me, unseeing.  Only one person here is real – her.  I sense her presence; follow it in a flash to a high-rise apartment.  She is a slim, tight-breasted woman tonight.  I slip into the body of the other woman, asleep on the bed.

I luxuriate in the feel of the silk sheets against my skin.  Jazz plays quietly from hidden speakers, a lovely counter-point to the heart beating in my throat. The air is heavy with incense.

I open my eyes and sit up.  She greets me with a smile, gesturing excitedly to an aquarium filled with flashing, golden-orange fish. I cannot understand her; I do not speak her language.  I never have.  I imagine that she is telling me she loves me.

I know that I love her.  It is, perhaps, the only thing I know.

She steps closer and I tug her down onto the bed with me.  We kiss, eager and playful.  I trace her collarbone with my tongue and continue down the soft skin of her belly. Her mound is covered in neatly-trimmed peach fuzz.  I brush my hair over it, kissing her thigh, and she whines. I lap at her, tongue flat and wet while she gasps and moans.  When she starts to beg I press my fingers inside her wet heat until she shudders, straining and crying out.

I crawl up her body.  She looks up at me, dazed and panting.  I steal a kiss and start to roll my hips, rubbing off against her sweat-slick skin. She goes up her elbow to flick her tongue over my breasts, first one then the other.

"You're perfect," I tell her.  She grins, falls back against the bed, and grabs my ass to pull me tighter against her.

Afterwards, I take a shower, enjoying the feeling of the warm water running over my skin.  When I come back to bed, she is busy peeling an orange.  We enjoy the sweet, tart flavor, licking the juice off each other's fingers.

With the first ray of dawn, I am gone.

* * *

Tonight I find her swimming in a pool, a young woman with a buzz-cut, wearing a black one-piece swimsuit and tattoos.  My host reclines nearby on a lounge chair, watching her swim.  I slip inside her and make myself at home.  The air is humid and warm as I breathe in, thick with the scent of chlorine from the pool.  There's a peculiar thrill to feeling my nipples pebble against the damp fabric of my bikini. I open my eyes and she calls out to me.

I hop up and almost fall over as I strip out of the bathing suit, awkward and impatient to join her in the pool.   I dive in. The water is a cool shock against my heated skin.  She drags me underwater and laughs when I break free, gasping for breath and shaking the water from my hair.

Her mouth tastes of chlorine and cigarettes.  I slip my hand into her suit and feel her bush, thick and bristly.  She moans and pushes into my grip. We brace against the side of the pool and stroke each other off, the touch a little too rough, both too greedy to wait for more.

We finally emerge dripping and wrinkled, leaving wet footprints on the tile floor.  I find some cigarettes and a lighter in the pocket of a robe on the other chaise lounge and light up.  The smoke is harsh in my throat, down into my lungs.  I cough, inhale again, and let the smoke drift smoothly out my nostrils.  The nicotine rush feels fantastic. I take another drag, kiss her and exhale the smoke into her mouth, so she can feels it, too.

We curl up on a single, too-small lounge chair by the exterior glass wall.  We can see the entire city from here. I wonder how long I've known her.  It feels like forever.  I hold her tight as we watch the sunrise together.

* * *

Tonight I find her dancing in the middle of a club, arms over her head, swaying to music I cannot hear.  Dozens of ghosts watch her hungrily. But she is mine.  Only mine.  In my rush to keep them away I surge into the nearest host. The music blares, deafening.  The club stinks of alcohol, sweat, and lust. The bass thrums through my body as I shove my way through the crowd to get to her. 

I grab her by the shoulders. She turns her head coyly, smiles at me, and presses back into the curve of my body. We dance together for a minute, me savoring the feeling of her against me.   Then she grabs me by the hand and leads me though the crowd, out of the club.  It's raining, cool water pouring from the sky.  She tips her head, opens her mouth, and sticks out her tongue to drink from the black night's bounty even as the rain plasters our clothes to our bodies.

I pull her into an alleyway and a kiss.  I nudge her backwards with my body until she's leaning against the brick wall.  Then I sink to my knees and rub my face against the front of her skirt. I can smell how turned on she is.   Her breath catches and her hands grip my hair.  I push the skirt up and nuzzle underneath. She's commando, shaved naked and open to me.  I lick, then suck at her clit.  There's a piercing through the hood, already gone slick with my saliva and her juices.  I can hear the dull bass thud from the club, groups of people talking and laughing just a few feet away.  She bites her fist to silence herself when she comes in my mouth, and then pulls me to my feet, relishing her own taste on my tongue.  I push her hand between my legs but she jerks away with a laugh, straightens her clothes, and dashes out of the alleyway.

I follow her down the sidewalk, through blaring traffic and glaring street lights.  A few blocks away she opens a door for me. We walk through a lobby and into an auditorium.  She guides me all the way to the front, where an empty row of red chairs awaits us. On stage, people in strange costumes are singing passionately.  They are fighting and dying, pleading and loving.  It is utterly unfamiliar, alien and beautiful and glorious.  Just like her.

After the performance we walk the city streets together, hand in hand.  She buys me a skewer of meat from a street stall, and I share it with her.  It rains all night, but I can still feel the coming of dawn.  I raise her hand to my lips and brush a kiss over her knuckles as the sunlight takes me.

* * *

Tonight she is an exhausted young girl in a hotel bed, makeup smeared across her face.  A mirror on the ceiling doubles the odd shadows a neon pink rose throws across her body.  I'm lying in a wet spot next to her, shivering, already close to orgasm as the double-headed dildo strapped to my hips vibrates inside me and along my clit.  I flip her on her stomach and push into her slick cunt.  She cries out as I bite down on her shoulder.  I hold her down, my heart pounding frantically as I shove my hips against her ass until I come.  She seems unhappy, afterwards, and I am desperate to fix it.

There is a pink, heart-shaped tub in the bathroom.  I fill it with hot water, adding liquid from the bottles until the air is scented with chemical flowers and the bubbles threaten to flood over the sides of the bath.  Then I lead her to it, down into the warm water.  She sighs and smiles at me, just a little.   I wash her gently, so gently, apologizing when she winces at the touch of the sponge against the bite on her shoulder. It's … quite nasty, actually. Looks more like a dog bite, than a love bite.

I find a chocolate bar in the clothes piled on the floor.  We split it in half, rich and sweet on the tongue, as we huddle together in the damp, stained bed.  I close the curtains, but the dawn still drags me away from her.

* * *

Tonight I find her driving a taxi, a big woman in a uniform.  She pulls into an alleyway as I strip my clothes off and climb into the front seat to straddle her. I unbutton her shirt to reveal a lacy black bra – they must be D-cups, and I'm frantic to touch and taste. I reach with shaking hands to release the front catch, and can't quite manage it.  She places one hand over mine, pressing them into her cleavage, and says something.  I look up and meet her eyes.

She smiles at me and leans forward to press an insistent kiss to my lips. I put my arms around her neck. We kiss over and over, long, drugging kisses, our tongues meeting and tangling, lost in each other.  I moan helplessly into her mouth, rocking in her lap, pressed up against her breasts and belly.

Finally she leans back and releases the catch on her bra, pulling the cups aside along with her shirt so I can touch, and suck, and play with her breasts.  I bring her off twice like that before I can't hold back any longer.  I lean back against the steering wheel, push my fingers inside myself, and come, long and hard, while she watches from a foot away.

Once I've stopped shaking, she gentles me off her lap into the passenger seat and twists around to fish my clothes out from the back seat.  She places them on the seat between us and gestures for me to get dressed.  I use the sports bra to dry my hands and wipe between my legs, then stuff it down the side of the seat.  She shakes her head at me, smiling, as she fastens her bra and buttons up her shirt. She wipes the fog from the windshield with the side of her sleeve, then opens the driver-side window.  She lifts her head, and I can see her nostrils flare - there's a breeze from the east tonight.  I can smell the sea.

She turns to stare at me, and seems to make a decision. Then she drives us east, towards the harbor, speaking in a hushed, urgent voice.  It sounds important; I wish I could understand.  We park by the docks and find a bench to sit on, looking out over the dark expanse of the water.  Something about it terrifies me.

I glance over at her and catch her wiping away a tear before it can spill from her eyes. I don't know why she's so sad. There's no time to cheer her up tonight; I'll have to fix it tomorrow.  I kiss her goodnight.  For the first time we watch the sun rise over the sea.  

* * *

Tonight I find the young girl standing on a street corner, wearing almost nothing, shivering in the cold.  The girl cannot see me.  It is not her.  I reach out to touch the vicious bite mark on the girl's shoulder.  She startles, freezes, and walks away without looking back. I let her go. When the dawn comes, it's a relief.

* * *

Tonight I search the high-rise, the pool, the hotel, the club, the auditorium, even the taxi where I last found her, but she is not there. No one can see me. There is no music, no scent, no flavor, no her. Sunrise puts an end to my frantic hunt across the city.

* * *

Tonight she is gone. I wander the streets all night and do not find her. What am I, without her?

* * *

Tonight she is gone. I am alone.

* * *

Tonight she is gone.

* * *

Tonight I search the harbor for her.  Out on the water, I see a flicker of light.  A single paper lantern dances on the waves.  I follow it, stepping hesitantly onto the water as if it were a sheet of ice.  I sense her presence in the distance, far ahead, and rush forwards onto the open sea, even as the eastern horizon grows bright.

Dawn breaks.  
Please.  
I need more  
time.  
I love her.

  
She's here.

Joy  
my name is  
joy

**Author's Note:**

> I drew inspiration for this story from both Haley's 'Ghost' video, taken far more literally than intended, and the Hungry Ghost Festival. It's not a Japanese tradition, but Tokyo is an international city. I'm certain there are people leaving offerings and respecting the taboos of the 7th month - as well as plenty of people neglecting them and leaving themselves open to the spirits.


End file.
